


Home for Christmas❅☃

by pandreea



Category: Last Shadow Puppets
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:14:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21598243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandreea/pseuds/pandreea
Relationships: Miles Kane/Alex Turner
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	Home for Christmas❅☃

A warm smell of cinnamon lurks into the living room from the kitchen and the wind is tossing snow into the Turner’s backyard like flower into a baking pan. Miles is slurring at the wrestling match on the telly, looking like he’s about to have a go at it the way he’s leaning forward and clenching his fists. Alex can feel him jolt occasionally, sprawled as he is, with his head on Miles’ thigh and a leg dangling over the side of the settee. A tiny replica of Santa that he has taken to watching is looking back at him in a disconcerting manner. To his ever-dramatizing mind, it seems like a scene in a tragic Christmas film.  
‘Miles...’ he moans, clumsily reaching up to ensure the success of his endeavor by cupping Miles’ face and tilting it towards him. ‘Let’s do something.’  
‘Hm?’  
‘Please, Mi. I’m bored to death.’  
Miles’ attention is hard to divert from a match, but the idea of Alex being bored with his visit alerts him. They had spent weeks raving about the holidays, ever since Alex invited him over for Christmas, and so far it hadn’t been much of a party. He blamed it on Alex’s parents, who were pretty much unavoidable around the house, and outside had been a permanent blizzard.  
‘We could build a snowman,’ is all he can come up with on the spot. Alex’s reluctant frown confirms the flaws in this plan, given the state of the weather and the fact that they are grown men in their 20s, but Miles is determined to bring some excitement into the equation, and Alex loves the snow, that much is certain. ‘I bet by the time we get dressed it’ll stop storming! It’ll stop for us,’ he grins, springing off the sofa as if it had been decided the snowman would be done. ‘Come on!’  
‘Fine,’ Alex sighs for the sake of not being stuck watching festive wrestling for the remaining couple of hours before dinner. Amazingly enough, it had indeed stopped snowing by the time they went out into the backyard and he never got to give Miles a bollocking about it.  
‘This is pointless,’ he says, picking up a handful of fresh powdery snow, the worst kind to play in. ‘You can’t build a snowman with this, any sensible person knows.’  
‘Not with that attitude! Don’t be such a mardy bum…’ Miles scolds with a spurring pat on the bum as he walks by and Alex knows better than to stand in the way of his boundless ambition, so he doesn’t further argue.  
‘Let’s make it more interesting then,’ he propositions. ‘A competition.’  
‘You’re on, Turner!’  
❅  
An hour plods by and Miles is sweating profusely in spite of the cold, with half a snowman done. Though Alex holds back any comments as he smooths the edges of his own finished work, the sneer plastered on his face is worth a thousand mockeries. There’s something about snow that makes him awfully competitive - Miles has learned it the hard way on their last skiing trip.  
‘Just to be clear, this is a contest of creativity, not speed,’ he points out, while Alex proudly beats the snow off his gloves at a job well done.  
‘Of course. I’m just getting to that,’ he winks back and disappears into the house, presumably to find some adornments for his creation.  
Just as Miles is finishing piling up a head on top of his snowman, he makes a sneaky reappearance carrying a surprising armload of things.  
‘Looks like you’re done,’ he subtly invites Miles to take his turn inside the house and give him some privacy. It’s a mystery to Miles why he had signed up for this competition he just can’t win. The idea of defrosting for a while is appealing, however, and he’s more than happy to let Alex see to his work in peace while he gathers some facial features and maybe a hat for his own.  
Acquiring some mulled wine and cookies from Mrs. Turner makes the outcome of the trip quite satisfying. Alex’s figure is circling the snowman, giving it the finishing touches, as far as he can tell peeking at him through the curtains. It seems like quite an elaborate snowman, making Miles reconsider the scarce content of his coat pockets. Not that he minds letting Alex win.  
Alex acknowledges his presence in the backyard with the smuggest of grins and very mindful not to miss any bit of his reaction.  
‘What the fuck…?’ is all Miles can say to distinguishing the details of his masterpiece. ‘Is that my fucking shirt?!’  
Alex bursts out laughing before he can answer, but there’s no need to, really. There’s probably not another black and white polka dot shirt like it in the whole of Sheffield. A black scarf of Alex’s is coiled onto the snowman’s head with the fringes slopping over the sides, which Miles guesses is his best attempt at his haircut. A branch arm is sticking through one of the sleeves split at the end into two gnarly fingers. That, the carrot nose and the pair of oversized coal eyes make the traditional elements in the whole setting, because the mouth is cinnamon sticks.  
‘So what do you think?’ Alex asks, lighting himself a cigarette. ‘I call him Peter the Snowmod.’  
Miles wants to be angry at him for endangering his favourite shirt, he really does, but he can’t for the life of him. Alex has made a snowman Miles with lips made of cinnamon sticks. To top it all, the cigarette turns out to be the finishing touch, which Alex offers to share with the snowmod, lodging it at one corner of its cinnamon mouth, much as he would with the real Miles. It’s quite possibly one of the cutest things he’s ever done and the bar was set pretty high since Alex is the cutest person in the world. Admitting it would just spoil his fun though, so Miles settles for trampling over to the snowman to check the state of his shirt.  
‘If you ruined it, you are getting me 10 new ones!’  
‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Besides, I don’t even know why you thought you’d need that here,’ Alex waves him off on his way to the house. ‘Try to top this now, if you think you’ve got a chance!’  
For the sake of a reaction, Miles aims a snowball in the general direction of Alex and manages to strike him right in the nape, just above his collar, surprising even himself with the precision. Alex catches him wide-eyed and with his hands over his mouth in as he turns around infuriated. ’What the hell, Kane?!’  
Though ready to run for cover out of the way of his rage, Miles can’t stop giggling. ‘Sorry!’  
‘Fuck’s sake…’ Alex slurs, patting the snow off the back of his neck. Miles feels a little guilty watching him wince from the cold, but not enough to keep him from laugh all the way to safety behind his still featureless snowman.  
‘You had it coming!'  
❅  
The precarious snowman doesn’t make for much of a defense, though, when Alex unexpectedly charges towards him, carefully going around it, and tackles him on the ground, shoving fresh snow in his face. Miles squirms underneath him to no result, because Alex has him well pinned to the ground by straddling his waist.  
‘You dick!’ he shouts over Alex’s laughter. ‘Get off me!’  
His demands are not met, but the weight of Alex’s body presses on his stomach so that he’s finally able to blink a couple of times and notice that the avalanche in front of his eyes has stopped. Instead of bright white, he’s left looking at Alex’s sneering face and somehow he still can’t catch his breath. It’d be a huge lie to say he hasn’t pictured him from this angle before. Though his back is numbed with cold, his face is burning up and it’s growing warmer between his thighs, too. That’s when he decides to brutally push Alex off of him. Caught by surprise, Alex slides onto the ground with a gasp and Miles can’t let himself miss the opportunity of trading places. It feels like a bad idea the moment Alex’s waist fills the inside of his thighs. He can only pray his body won’t do anything embarrassing. Alex isn’t laughing any more, but he seems determined to win the fight. He rolls the both of them over and they curl up side by side, struggling to throw whatever snow they can clutch in each other’s faces, until they’re both freezing and soaked, panting in unison.  
‘I quit!’ Alex shouts with his last breath and picks himself off the ground warily. ‘I call it quits. You got snow into my fucking pants…’  
‘Thank god…’ Miles heaves falling back, unable to stand up just yet. Alex gives him a tender smile as a token of peace before helping him up.  
❅  
It’s warm in Alex’s bedroom, but still no match for the cold stuck in their bones and in the clothes which are swiftly discarded for Alex to place on the radiator. His claim that snow had made it all the way inside his pants was no exaggeration, Miles found, while peeling layer after layer of clothing off himself to get rid of the freezing sogginess. At the end of this process, they’re both left in briefs only. Alex’s light skin is stained red and prickled with goosebumps. Miles’ keen gaze can even detect the slight quiver of his body. It’s not until Alex crawls into bed and wraps himself in the duvet, blocking his view, that he realises he’s been staring.  
‘Yeah, that does it...’ Alex sighs, holding the duvet tighter around himself, until he remembers not to be selfish and clears one side of the bed for Miles. ‘Get in here.’  
It shouldn’t feel so inappropriate to join him but it does. Miles is grateful he can put his frantic heartbeat and blushing on account of the cold.  
Their bodies meet under the covers, linked at the forearm. Alex is already pleasantly warm and inviting and Miles would like nothing more than to attach himself to him head to toe. Maybe Alex can tell. Sometimes Miles could swear he sees right through him when his gaze lingers upon him for so long. Whatever the reason, Alex wiggles closer. The warm hand snaking around his waist makes Miles shudder, partly from the drastic change of temperature, partly because it’s Alex’s arm and Alex’s familiarly calloused fingers stroking his skin. His eyes flutter closed involuntarily, but he can tell how unbelievably close they are now from the way Alex’s hot steady breaths land on his shoulder. He can feel the cold and his composure leave him, almost like he’s melting away.  
‘Do you know why I made Peter the Snowmod’s mouth out of cinnamon sticks?’ Alex whispers after what seems like forever.  
‘My spicy wit?’  
A chuckle breaks Alex’s tender drawl, which he stifles against Miles’ shoulder. ‘On the one hand!... But also because cinnamon smells like home.’  
If his heart weren’t beating so fast, Miles would think he’s been knocked out by a snowball in the backyard and has slipped into those fantasies again. But usually in those he’s a lot more collected and makes the first move. This time, it’s up to Alex to take him by the chin and align their faces, checking his eyes for approval before leaning in to press their lips together.  
❅  
If he’s indeed been knocked out, Miles doesn’t want to wake up any time soon. But somehow he knows it’s not the case. His kissing is fearful and his hands are clumsy on Alex. The skillful and experienced lover he thinks himself to be is reduced to an awkward beginner, too greedy and too nervous not to make a wrong move. He must be doing something right, though, because Alex can’t get any closer, their legs are getting entwined and so are Alex’s fingers in his hair. His lips are soon to part for Miles, making him sigh with relief.  
It takes the both of them a little too long to process anything going on around them, but Alex is first to pull away and mutter a curse.  
‘Dinner’s all set, you boys get dressed and come down, yeah?’ Mrs. Turner commands, only her head sticking out from behind the door. Miles contemplates hiding under the duvet, but that would probably make an even worse impression. Alex is first to pull himself together and utter a response that would send her away.  
‘Yeah, okay, be right down!’  
‘I did knock!’ she differs before shutting the door.  
❅  
No ideas or strategies are discussed while they get dressed. It’s a silent agreement to just throw themselves head-first into the mess and improvise as they go. Besides, Miles’ mind is busy dwelling on the greater issues of whether the Christmas miracle he’d just experienced could repeat itself and whether Alex thought that’s as good as it gets.  
‘Y'know, I can do way better than that,’ he jokes, in the hopes of easing the tension and his troubled mind. He’s prepared for Alex to hesitate, take his time to think, always in search for the right words, but he’s surprisingly quick with a comeback.  
‘You’ll have to prove yourself,’ he smiles and if the confrontation with the Turners weren’t in the way, Miles wouldn’t wait a moment longer to do so. He would kiss Alex like he’s never been kissed before, sweep every inch of him with kisses, because Alex has confirmed that he can.  
With this in mind, it’s a little easier to go downstairs. Mr. Turner is already sitting at the head of the table switching channels, when Mrs. Turner rushes in balancing a couple of plateaus and leaving a trail of baked apple and cinnamon scent behind. It’s all disturbingly ordinary. Miles dares guess Mrs. Turner has not told her husband what she has witnessed and they’re meant to conspire to keep the secret.  
‘Come now, sit down, the roast’s no good cold,’ she hastens the two still awkwardly stuck at the door. ‘Don’t tell me you’re all bashful because I saw you snogging!’  
‘Mum!’  
Alex gives her a harsh look from behind his father that pleads for discretion.  
‘What?! Like we don’t know…Didn’t you know, David?’  
Mr. Turner barely turns away from the telly, confused as to why he’s brought into the conversation. ‘I don’t know, I thought that’s why we had Miles over? Because you fancy him?’  
‘I never said that!’ Alex claims, but he doesn’t look convinced and he takes a seat at his father’s side to avoid the curious eyes set upon him. Miles scurries to join him and hold his hand under the table for reassurance since he can’t think of a single helpful thing to sau until the matter is sorted out.  
‘Well,’ Mrs. Turner argues as she cuts into the roast, ‘maybe you didn’t say exactly that, but you sure said a lot of other things. Miles this, Miles that… It’s all I ever hear! Did my bloody head in!’ she concludes with a glance and a smile at Miles that convey she could only mean the very opposite. Mr. Turner nods in agreement and Miles has to put up a hell of a fight not to giggle like an idiot.  
‘I can’t believe this…’ Alex rubs his forehead, too fired up to remember to be nervous and begins to question his mother about what exactly she had told other people about them.  
Since there’s no longer any cause for worry, Miles makes use of the time planning out the making of David the Snowrocker first thing in the morning.


End file.
